Out of Dark Places
by cherryflesh
Summary: Hannibal has been having deliciously dark fantasies about his Will but before he acts on it his keen senses pick up a new and raw pain beneath the surface of the man... what has happened to Will? And with this new trauma, how likely is Will to give up control to Hannibal? Warnings: rape/non-con (not between Hannibal and Will), violence, hurt/comfort, slash, smut
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**  
This fic is based on this prompt at Dreamwidth:

_rape/non-con, hurt/comfort, violence, emotional manipulation, blood play, blindfold, bondage, etc _

_Hannibal has been having deliciously dark fantasies about his Will but before he acts on it his keen senses pick up a new and raw pain beneath the surface of the man... Basically I would like something horrible to have happened to Will (rape or other intense trauma) and suddenly Hannibal has to find out exactly what has happened - and figure out a way for a broken Will to give up control to him._

_Bonus if Hannibal gets to dole out some serious revenge. ;3_

_(I swear this isn't meant to be as dark as it may come across! XD)_

Seems like I couldn't keep my dirty fingers away from my own prompt... ^.^

**Warnings:** This story includes violence, non-con/rape(not between Hannibal and Will). Budding slashy (b)romance with eventual sexy goodness on the horizon.

* * *

Truly, it was an inconvenience. He recognized that Will Graham was a potential threat to his carefully constructed world. If Will stumbled into Hannibal's mind, clumsily and reluctantly, it could prove disastrous. But his vulnerability was a siren call that Hannibal couldn't resist; it tugged at him like a leash, and he resented his knee jerk reaction to follow. Will, tortured and sweet, was completely oblivious to the way he tempted the older man with his furtive glances, flashing hints of pain and fear like a 19th century lady flashing an ankle.

He wanted to possess him. He wanted to devour him. And he wanted to keep him.

Conversations with Will were always enjoyable. The young man was an intriguing mix of brilliance and insecurities. Hannibal found him intriguing, and so it had begun. Almost immediately he had wondered if he tasted as delicious as he smelled, but he clamped down on those urges; he didn't want Will dead. He wanted him alive and squirming, completely at his mercy. In his fantasies Will was sometimes sprawled on his bed, other times at his feet, and yet other times in his arms. The things he wanted to do to him… but he would much prefer Will to be willing, so he quietly bided his time. Once Will trusted him he would introduce him to all the wicked pleasures his body could handle.

_What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there,_ he had told Will during one of their sessions. And he was happy to be Will's guide through the darkness.

With this in mind Hannibal stepped out of the car and walked up to Will's front door. When knocking gave no response, he tried again. After half a minute the door opened and Will was there. Hannibal smiled and Will shifted, eyes darting in nervous patterns.

"Good morning. Since it is only you and I at the crime scene today, I thought I would pick you up. I hope you don't mind." When Will didn't reply he raised an eyebrow and added: "May I come in?" Will nodded and stepped aside.

"Um. Yeah. Sure," he mumbled when Hannibal passed him. As he did Hannibal tilted his head briefly, noting the metallic tang in the air. He inhaled discreetly, pursing his lips in thought. Why did Will smell like blood?

* * *

Will's heart was beating frantically against the inside of his chest like it was trying to escape. His limbs felt heavy as he shuffled after Hannibal into the kitchen and he had to concentrate to keep his hands from shaking as he made them coffee. The fluffy bath robe he wore was comfortably worn and thread bare, but now it chafed against the wounds on his skin. The ones on his chest, arms and legs were cleaned and patched up, but the ones on his back he couldn't reach so they burned and itched every time he moved.

He pressed his lips together as Hannibal walked out of the kitchen. He wanted to yell at him to not go and he tried to remember if he had left anything around to indicate the previous night's disaster. He held his breath as Hannibal reentered the room and went to sit by the table.

"Your dogs seem… unhappy." Will shifted, knowing all too well that his usually enthusiastic friends were silent and grave, lying together in the living room. When he had stumbled into the house nearing midnight they had immediately gathered around, their whining following him into the bathroom, where he sat huddled in the shower, the circling water slowly turning from red to pink.

"R-really? I haven't n-noticed," he lied, then grimaced and looked away. _Stuttering now?_ He dared a glance at Hannibal. His poker face told him nothing, but he was almost certain that his deception hadn't gone unnoticed. He walked over and put a cup of coffee down in front of Hannibal, who touched the cup lightly while watching Will.

"Come, take a seat," Hannibal said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Eat something."

"I'll… uh… I'll stand," Will mumbled. Sitting down hurt in the most humiliating and intimate way. And just thinking about eating turned his stomach.

"Will. Tell me what happened." The accented voice had shed part of the usual softness and now there was a hard edge that scraped across Will's already frayed nerves. He shook his head, staring at an old spot on the kitchen table, anchoring himself there so that he didn't have to meet Hannibal's unnerving eyes. The sharp clatter of porcelain meeting porcelain cut through the silence like a thunderclap and he jumped. Hannibal let go of the coffee cup and stood up. Will took an involuntary step back and swallowed, trying to force the rising panic back down. Hannibal walked up to him, stopping only a few inches away. Will's gaze frittered from Hannibal's collar, to his shoulder, and for a few brave seconds his lips and cheekbones. "Something happened, I can tell that much." There was a pause and Will swallowed, blinking furiously. "I would much prefer if you told me about it, Will," Hannibal added mildly and the gentleness was almost Will's undoing.

He almost gave in to the temptation to break down, to cry helplessly against Hannibal's chest, to drink in the steady, unrelenting calmness that was so uniquely Hannibal.

"Nothing happened," he heard himself say, and he felt numb. He could feel Hannibal's stare, then the other man leaned in so that they stood almost cheek to cheek with only inches of air between them. Will felt a blush creep up his neck when he felt the other's body heat. Hannibal's chest inflated slightly… _Is he smelling me..? _

"You're hurt," Hannibal said, his breath a warm caress against Will's ear. Will shook his head.

"No…" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't lie to me, Will." There was a cold edge in Hannibal's voice that made him shiver. A subtle warning. Will pressed his lips together and said nothing. A moment later his robe belt moved and he felt a surge of panic.

"No!" Fear made his voice high and sharp and the fingers on the belt knot stilled.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital." When Will inhaled sharply Hannibal leaned back and Will's blue eyes were pinned under the weight of the other's dark gaze.

"No… please…" he whispered, desperation lacing every syllable. Hannibal blinked slowly, keeping Will's eyes pinned down.

"At least let me examine you." When Will hesitated Hannibal tilted his head, giving him a slightly admonishing look. "It is either one or the other. Choose."

Fear opened it's jaws and yawned wide inside Will's mind and he began to tremble. The very thought of a stranger poking and prodding him was unbearable. He might have to be sedated and if the Lounds woman was roaming the halls of the hospital… and if what happened to him got out… he didn't dare follow that train of thought to the next stop. But to let Hannibal examine him? He wet his lips, so very very unsure… finally, he nodded.

"A-alright," he muttered and at once he felt Hannibal relax and realized that he had been tense before. _Because he thought that he would have to force me?_ Even if the other man was slightly taller and overall bigger than him, Will was confident that he would be able to defend himself against the psychiatrist. He closed his eyes. _What's wrong with me? Dr. Lecter wouldn't force me to do anything._

"I'm going to open your robe now," Hannibal told him as he fingered the knot on the belt. Will looked down, no longer able to bear his gaze. He watched the long fingers work the knot open and push the robe apart. Silence reigned for several minutes. Will tried to lock himself away in his own mind, to hide from the intense scrutiny. He knew very well what Hannibal saw on his chest, trailing down across hip bones and thighs. Shallow cuts marred his skin in a seemingly random pattern and he had cleaned them all and taped the edges of each cut together before putting soft cotton pads on them. Some of them had red dots where blood had seeped through. There was a decent sized bruise across his flank from a particularly vicious kick and he knew there were long bruises on each hip…

Hannibal said nothing and Will shifted, feeling awkward and vulnerable.

"If… if you could, um, have a look at my back…" he forced himself to say. Without a word Hannibal nodded and carefully helped him off with his robe. Here and there the fabric had stuck to the open wound and Will hissed as Hannibal pealed it off. Again a long pause.

"Go. Lie down on your stomach. I will be with you in a moment." There was something in Hannibal's voice and Will couldn't put his finger on what it was. He dared a glance and noticed the set jaw, the displeased quirk of his lips. And it hit him. Disgust. Will inwardly curled up, trying not to react to it. _I tried to stop them, I did, don't look at me like that, please… _

Hannibal left him standing and he felt oddly cold and bereft without his presence. He hesitated for a moment, then went into the bedroom where he could stretch out on the bed. Hannibal returned after a mere minute, holding Will's medical box which he had left out in the bathroom.

Will had his face hidden in the pillow and Hannibal let him. He cleaned the wounds with a gentle touch and efficient expertise. When he was done Will felt exhausted. Pain and adrenaline still made his mind tingle but he had relaxed a bit under Hannibal's careful ministrations.

Then Hannibal's fingers traced the edge of his boxer shorts.

"I'm sorry, Will…" Hannibal said softly. "But I'm going to have to insist that we remove these."

* * *

So that's the first chapter! Thanks for reading! Bit of a cliffhanger, but please drop me a review if you would like to read more. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! It really made my day and inspired me to keep writing. :) So, um, without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

Hannibal could barely contain his anger as he searched the bathroom for medical supplies. The sight of Will's injuries had unsettled him, or more accurately it had filled him with rage and that in itself had been unsettling.

He was seldom angry; it wasn't in his nature.

Flesh and blood was his nature, his art… and anger did not inspire him. He had faced his inner demons many years ago, and rather than fighting them he had befriended them. And he knew the steady hunger that slowly mounted, knew the cycles, and for now he had known that all was well. He had been sated and content, entertaining himself with helping his Will put together a 50,000 pieces puzzle while keeping the most important pieces in his pockets.

So why did his hunger suddenly pique? Why did his mind overflow with violent impulses, why was his tongue dry for blood?

_Emotionally invested._

He found some medical supplies and carefully took inventory of the small box while his thoughts lingered on his apparent attachement to the man currently sprawled on his stomach in the bedroom. He recognized it and accepted it, briefly thinking of the last person he had felt such affection towards. It had been long ago…

_Whoever gave Will those injuries will have to be disposed of._

The sudden thought made him wonder about his own reactions. Disposing of the threat was one thing, but… and he paused and licked his lips, closing his eyes for a second… but he was going to make it last. Oh yes, whoever it was would be kept alive for a long time.

Now calm, he exited the bathroom and proceeded to take care of Will's injuries. The smell of sweat and blood was heady and having Will on his stomach with his back a virtual feast of bleeding wounds was a temptation that continued to beckon him. While gently cleaning one of the cuts started to bleed again and some of the ruby fluid trickled over his fingers. He made sure Will had his face firmly hidden in the pillow before he brought the wet finger to his lips, licking it clean.

_Exquisite._

Just like he knew it would be. The impulse to bend down and clean the cuts with his tongue was almost too strong to deny. Somehow he managed to hold back and only looked…his eyes fell again on the tell-tale bruises on his hips. Finger marks. Once again anger flared but he forced it down. Instead he told Will that he had to remove his boxers.

The change was instantaneous. Will tensed visibly and reached around to swat his hands away from his rear.

"That's okay, I'm fine… I-I mean you don't need to-" he stuttered and Hannibal caught his flailing hand.

"You have a trauma and we need to determine the extent of your injuries," he said firmly. Will pulled his hand free and tried to sit up.

"No! There's no need to – I don't want to-" Hannibal pushed him back down with a hand on the small of his back.

"I will help you, Will. That is why I'm here." He paused. "But you will have to trust me." Will gave a short laugh, and it had a desperate ring to it.

"I'm not good at t-trusting people…" His voice wavered and Hannibal moved his thumb in a calming half-circle on the soft skin of the small of his back. The room was silent for a few long moments, then Hannibal bent down and spoke, low and intimate.

"Will. The person who hurt you. Did he hurt you… here?" He moved his hand, slowly caressing the cleft of Will's ass with his knuckles. Will said nothing, just borrowed his face further into the pillow, but he pushed his hips into the mattress as if trying to get away from Hannibal's hand. That was all the confirmation Hannibal needed and he hooked his thumbs in the waistline of the boxers and pulled them down. Will made a small sound into the pillow, but he didn't move, just tensed up.

Hannibal pressed his lips together, trying to keep his temper in check when he saw the blatant mockery: a bite mark. Bruises from teeth that wasn't Hannibal's. He rubbed it with his thumb as if he could wipe if off, curbing an impulse to claw at it. Instead he pushed the tense buttocks apart to inspect the damage. Will made choked sounds into the pillow and it took Hannibal a moment to realize that he was crying.

"Ssshhh…" Hannibal cleaned the tears as gently as he could, pressing a soft cloth wet with lukewarm water against the abused opening. "It's over soon."

And then it was. Hannibal pulled the boxers up again and stood up to pack away the medical supplies. Now and then he glanced down at the man on the bed, reflecting on their poor fortune. Will's abuser, whoever it was, had made a cruel and clumsy mockery of the exquisite torture that Hannibal had planned for Will, possibly putting Will out of his reach forever. Indeed, Will would hardly see the appeal of his partner tenderly cutting him with a sharp blade...

_Unless…_ he paused, watching as the trembling man got to his feet, his body covered with white cotton patches and bruises.

Hannibal had a small window of opportunity to insert himself more firmly as Will's confidante and protector, while the man was utterly vulnerable. He reached out and steadied Will by the arm, and was pleased when Will let him. This was the ideal time to cultivate a perfect trust between them.

"I will call Jack and let him know that you are not well."

"Don't. I'm fine." The blue eyes were haunted, but Hannibal was pleased at the determination he read in them. _Hurt but not broken. Good._ He let go of Will's arm, watching him closely.

"What would be your advice to a person who suffered the same trauma as you?"

Will plucked at the edge of the white tape on his arm, his fingers moving restlessly. His eyes darted from his hands, to Hannibal, to the floor, the door…

"Go to the hospital. Get injuries documented. Tell the police," he said finally.

"Why do you deny yourself the same concern?" When Will didn't reply Hannibal tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes unrelenting. "You fear being judged."

"No. Yes." Will rubbed his face, exhaling unsteadily. "I don't care what others think… I just, I don't want this to be a part of me. I don't know. It feels like if I involve the whole world and let it be documented… it will define me…" He gave a small laugh, letting his faraway stare escape through the door. "It sounds so shallow when I say it out loud."

"It is quite natural to want to define oneself. Everybody does." Hannibal paused, folding his hands in front of him. "You can deal with the trauma without letting it define you."

Will put some clothes on, his movements stiff and clumsy. At Hannibal's words he hesitated and his fingers slipped and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. As his frustration mounted his hands shook more and his lips twitched as he focused on the task. His fingers missed and missed again, twitching like dying spiders on his chest. Sweat broke out, a thin layer of salty dampness over his skin… The spell broke when his hands were brushed away; he hadn't even noticed that Hannibal had closed the distance between them. The doctor calmly and efficiently buttoned up his shirt.

"This will not be your last panic attack, and I will not always be able to nip them in the bud." The corners of his lips curved into a smile. "But I will be here to see you through them."

* * *

Will nodded mutely, weak with relief. He couldn't help but notice that his body calmed down considerably when Hannibal was close to him. The taller man quelled his panic by simply standing close, and he knew that one reason he preferred not to look Hannibal in the eye was for the intensity. If eyes were indeed the window to the soul, as claimed by poets and Hallmark postcards, then something frightening lurked behind the broken glass of those dark eyes, something that could very easily crawl out and slither into Will through his own windows, which he too often left wide open.

"Don't tell anyone?" The question slipped out before he could censor it and the vulnerable tone made him ashamed. He smiled helplessly. "It's alright if you don't want to keep my secrets-"

Hannibal reached out and grasped Will's arm, slightly above the elbow.

"My dear Will," he said, and somehow the dim light of the room managed to give the doctor's dark eyes a reddish hue. "I will be your keeper."

* * *

The story is slowly moving forward! It will take some time and careful manipulation, but we trust Hannibal to get it done, yes? Yes. Please review and tell me what you think! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:  
**Thank you very much for all the reviews, you guys! Your feedback is very much appreciated and a great inspiration! Actually, your reviews fuel my muse and makes me more psyched with writing, so please read and enjoy - and if you feel like it, please tell me what you think! :)

* * *

Will stared up at the ceiling, or into the thick darkness hiding it. The only sound in the room was soft breathing of the dogs sleeping on the floor. Surrounding his bed. He was tired, exhausted to his very core and his body felt alien to him, still covered in cotton patches and tape that tugged and pinched at his skin every time he made a movement.

That first night Hannibal had wanted to stay, but Will had insisted that he was alright. Which he wasn't. They both knew it, but Hannibal respected Will's wishes and left. Will, for once wanting to pretend that he had the luxury of just falling to sleep like most people, had claimed that he was tired. It hadn't been a lie. But he was too afraid to sleep. He felt like his attacker waited for him, lurking behind his eyes, crouched inside his mind prepared to leap at him at the first sign of weakness.

Hannibal left.

The attacker crawled out of his head and was permanently standing right behind him. Will turned on the radio and left it blaring at high volume for hours. Only when he turned it off he realized why he had turned it on in the first place; as soon as the 80s power ballad dwindled into nothing he heard the heavy breathing behind him. His skin prickled from the vivid memory of hot, panting breath against his neck, his ear… a sensory memory with no regard for personal space at all.

He turned the radio on again and didn't even try to sleep that night. Instead he sat on the couch with a book while power ballads turned into golden oldies and later some guy droning on about insomnia. _Preaching to the choir there, buddy._

Hannibal had left his card on the bedside table, right beside the phone. That first night Will had stoically avoided it, much too embarrassed about being forced into such a vulnerable position with his psychiatrist.

Did it help that he had found him attractive from the first time they met? No, it did not. Well, not attractive as such at first. Magnetic was the word he was looking for. It took time before he realized that he found Hannibal attractive. Will was unused to wanting physical closeness, and adding to the fact that his few sexual encounters had been with women… _and every one a disaster,_ his mind supplied helpfully. Well, all that was before this horrible incident that had left him even more messed up than before. Before he had entertained vague fantasies about him and Hannibal touching. Or standing really close. As fantasies went they were pretty timid, but Will had enjoyed them, secretly adding them to his mind's map like guilty pleasures. Hands were nice; he had enjoyed watching Hannibal's hands. Acting on the attraction never occurred to him. Even if it wasn't deeply unprofessional for both of them, even if he wasn't straight, he very much doubted that he was Hannibal's type. Refined, in-control Hannibal and the scruffy freak with a penchant for collecting stray dogs? Not likely.

But all this was BHI. Before Horrible Incident. Now those fantasies were banished, neatly and sadly folded up and tucked away in some dark drawer in his mind. The tentative tingling he had secretly enjoyed had been blown out like a candle flame. What was left was cold and dirty with a lingering promise of fear and pain.

Such were Will's thoughts as he laid on the bed well into the second night, counting the shadows of his mind like sheep. He was exhausted enough to want to sleep, regardless of what was waiting for him in the dark. For the hundredth time he swept his eyes across the vague nuances of black in the room, more to feel the movement of his eyes than to actually see anything.

An extra shadow by the side of the bed made him start. The shadow, man-shaped, moved across the bed and the mattress dipped under the weight. Will's nostrils filled with the sickening scent of old sweat barely covered with cheap cologne. He tried to scramble away but the covers were so heavy. All across his body sticky pieces of tape lost their grip, leaving stinging red marks in their wake.

The shadow pinned him easily, the heavy weight making his lungs constrict in panic. His tense legs were pushed apart, leaving him open and vulnerable and already hurting.

_No no no..!_

He sat up, his upper body catapulted forward by his panicked subconscious. Cold sweat made his skin slippery and wet, his t-shirt soaked and clinging to him. He trembled, no, shook, teeth clattering so forcefully that he feared he would break them. Shaking hands clasped his mouth and aching jaw while he unconsciously rocked until the soothing motion calmed his racing heart.

When he felt certain that he was awake and safe he curled up under the covers. Not even the dogs concerned whining could shake the feeling of being completely alone.

_He said I could call him anytime._

Will glanced at the digital alarm clock. 03.05.

_He said…_

He reached out and snatched the business card on the nightstand, rubbing it between his fingers. For awhile he just held it under the covers, like a talisman. Then it wasn't enough.

_He said I could call him. He said._

Will held out for another ten long minutes, staring at the red numbers on the alarm clock as they slowly changed. He wondered if he could hold out until dawn, but doubted it. There was a faint smell of sweat and cologne in the room and he felt his attacker watching him, crouching low in some unknown corner in the twilight between dream and reality. He shivered, reaching out again and dragging his smartphone under the covers too. A few more minutes passed. You don't call your psychiatrist in the middle of the night. But a friend? He hoped so.

Before he had time to change his mind his fingers moved across the screen, dialing the Doctor's number. Two signals… three…

"Hello Will." The calm voice held no hint of sleep. Will felt instantly safer, and a little ashamed.

"Dr Lecter? I'm really sorry to call you in the middle of the night…" Will swallowed, his need for Hannibal's company stronger than his shame.

"Nonsense. What are friends for, hm?" There was a slight pause. "How do you feel?" Will rubbed his eyes, longing for a drop of calm, a plateau to rest on.

"I can't sleep," he pressed out.

"Bad dreams?" Will made a small sound that could mean anything, but Hannibal understood.

"I see. What do you need?" Hannibal's voice was low and intimate. Coaxing.

_I need you,_ Will very nearly said.

"I need… not to be alone," he replied instead, feeling like a coward. He half expected Hannibal to deny him.

"Can't have that now, can we? I will be over shortly."

It was more than an hour's drive between their homes and it was in the middle of the night, but Will said nothing, afraid that the other would change his mind.

"Thank you," he whispered instead, trying to ignore the darkness closing in around his bed and from the ceiling. Both of them disconnected and Will stared up at the ceiling again, doing his best to reign in his fear. It took the better part of half an hour before he managed to get to the bathroom.

* * *

Hannibal stepped out of the car outside Will's house. He had a small bag with him, leaving a larger one in the trunk of the car, in case of. He hoped to be able to provide Will with so much comfort that the damaged man could be tempted to follow back to Hannibal's home.

Will opened the door let him in without a word. Hannibal noticed that his hair was wet and rumpled, and a discreet intake of breath convinced him that Will had taken a shower before his arrival. The fact tugged at the corners of his mouth; _for me?_

"Ah, Will…" Hannibal put the paper bag down on the kitchen table. "I brought something to help you sleep."

"Sleeping pills?" Will asked, clutching his elbows. To Hannibal he looked worn out, and the slight note of hope in his voice made him sound lost. Vulnerable. Hannibal smiled.

"Whiskey, as a matter of fact." He pulled the bottle out of the bag. "Fine whiskey works wonders on your nerves." Will's answering grin pleased Hannibal. It was quick and fleeting, like an animal poking its head out of its den and startled retracting it, but it was a grin nonetheless. When Will took out two glasses Hannibal noticed a few red and pink patches on his white t-shirt.

"I see I will have to patch you up again," he told him, keeping his tone light. Even so, Will tensed, shooting him a wary look as he put the glasses on the table. The look rankled, but Hannibal kept his face impassive and reminded himself that he was likely the person Will trusted the most right now. Which didn't say much. He was hungry for the day Will offered him his complete and perfect trust, invited Hannibal in to possess him.

He poured them each a double whiskey and Will accepted the offered glass.

"To better times," Hannibal said, lips curling as he gently nudged his glass against Will's. Will nodded and snorted, his own lips curved into a small smile as the closed around the rim of the glass. Will sipped in silence, once, twice, three times and Hannibal went to get the medical box. When he came back Will's glass was empty, so he silently refilled it and took what he needed from the box and put them neatly on the table.

"Take of your shirt." He arranged the chairs so that two were facing each other; Hannibal sitting on the edge of his and Will sitting backward on his leaning his arms against the back of the chair. Will obeyed and clutched the stained shirt in his hands as he sat down in front of Hannibal.

Hannibal watched him through half-lidded eyes. It was good that Will did not know how attractive he was to Hannibal in that moment, how lovely the shallow wounds looked on his pale skin and how exquisitely he bowed his neck in submission… the only thing wrong with the picture was that it had been done by somebody else's hands. A stranger had marked Hannibal's possession and the act itself demanded retribution.

He placed himself behind Will, his knees on either side of the man's hips as he leaned forward to take a closer look at the wounds. A deep breath revealed the sweet, metallic scent of blood but no infection. Indeed, no redness and swelling around the cuts. _His flesh heals well. Good to know._ He cleaned the wounds gently, noting the tense muscles.

"Relax," he murmured. "You have no infections. It will not take long." He was pleased to see some of the tenseness leave him.

"Will there be scars?" Will's voice sounded thick. Hannibal paused, examining his own emotional reaction with a clinical detachment. His hand was unsteady so he lowered it for a moment, tilting his head to the side while he waiting for the rising wave of dark fury to subside from his mind. Assaulted by impulses to hurt, to claw his way into another's body with broken screams urging him on until there was nothing but silence and cooling flesh to feed the dogs… "Hannibal..?" Will's voice brought him back and he blinked, suppressing the blood thirst.

"There will likely be some small scarring," he admitted, pushing the thought away as his beast stirred yet again. "The cuts are very shallow. Scarring will be minimal." Will nodded, but Hannibal sensed the despair clinging to the man.

_Patience, my dear Will. Very soon I will mark you and you will bear my scars with pride..._

His lips was inches from Will's neck and he wanted to brush them over the soft skin, perhaps drag his teeth over it… just a small nibble, not even drawing blood, a small gesture of affection, of comfort. He forced himself to lean back; it was not the ideal time for that, not yet. He would not squandered the opportunity that Will had presented him with by calling him in the middle of the night.

"There, all done." He put the supplies back in the box and returned it to the bathroom. When he returned Will had put his shirt back on. "I think it is time to go to bed." He studied Will, who had begun to turn a nice shade of red. "Would you like me to sleep on the couch of the living room?" Will appeared to hesitate, shifting from one foot to the other.

"I have a big bed," he said at last. "Um. You could sleep on one side if you want to." Hannibal curbed his smile, but inwardly it spread like a Cheshire grin.

"That is acceptable," he said, bowing his head before entering the bedroom. Will followed, slightly more apprehensive. "I don't intend to sleep," he told Will after letting him worry a few moments.

"You don't?" Will sounded even more apprehensive and Hannibal even detected a note of rising fear.

_Oh, Will. Dear, fragile Will._

"I will read," Hannibal clarified, pulling a book from his bag. He propped some pillows against the headboard on one side of the bed, sitting down and making himself comfortable. "And keep watch over you," he added. Will wrung his hands, but did not look unhappy with the prospect.

"Don't you need to sleep..?"

"I sleep very little," Hannibal replied truthfully and turned to the correct page of the book. He heard Will getting ready for bed and felt the movement when he slipped under the covers. One click and the room was wrapped in darkness, except for the patch of light softly illuminating Hannibal's book.

"Goodnight," Will whispered.

"Goodnight, my dear Will," Hannibal replied, turning a page. He listened to Will's breath even out until he was sure he was sleeping. Once in awhile he glanced over, wondering what unfolded from his subconscious. After twenty minutes Will began to stir and after awhile he jerked awake, his breathing quick and shallow. "I am here," he told him and a pair of fearful blue eyes sought his in an almost unprecedented need for eye contact. Hannibal complied, staring Will's demons down until the fear ebbed and the man curled up beneath the covers. It was obvious he wanted something but didn't know how to say it.

Finally, Hannibal sighed and put his book down, patting the covers by his thigh with one hand.

"If you want to sleep closer, come." Will hesitated and Hannibal could see the conflicting emotions war behind his eyes. Then he inched closer, then closer still until he was in the middle of the bed. To Hannibal it was obvious that Will wanted to be even closer, perhaps even held, but Rome did not fall in a day. He took pity on him and reached out, palming the back of head, gently sifting through the damp locks of hair. Will submitted to being petted like that almost instantly, his eyes fluttering close.

Hannibal turned off the light and settled back against the pillows, still firmly putting Will's fears to bed with his hand, stroking and petting…

"Thank you," Will whispered, almost inaudibly. Hannibal's lips stretched into a smile so sharp it sliced the darkness of the room.

"My pleasure."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:**Once again, thank you all for your reviews! Those are the reason that I keep writing at this pace, so please know that if you dropped me a review with feedback/appreciation you directly contributed to this and every other chapter. Because then I know that somebody is reading and want the next part of the story. :)

Without further ado, read and enjoy and if you feel like pushing for the next part of the story, do drop me a review! They really make my day and fuel my brain with inspiration! 3

* * *

With the slight weight of Hannibal's hand on the back of his head, Will had the best night of sleep in weeks. He didn't wake up with a start, or slowly and sluggishly like a sleepy glacier. Instead his mind rose to the surface steady and effortlessly and he had to wonder… _is this how other people wake up? _He blinked up at the naked wrist and arm; sometime between then and now Hannibal had rolled up his sleeves. Will allowed his eyes to linger on the bronze skin, found himself searching for imperfections, scars, moles… finding little in ways of clues, his gaze finally traveled up the arm, past strong muscles and a firm jaw… and quirked lips. Will's eyes snapped to meet Hannibal's amused ones and averted his at once, color rising on his neck.

"You're awake," he stated, and instantly wanted to kick himself.

"That I am," Hannibal replied and removed his hand, leaving Will disturbed by how much he craved it back. "Did you sleep well?"

"Much better." Will sat up in the bed, glancing around for a t-shirt to put on. It felt at once very inappropriate and oddly natural for them to be in this position. "Thank you… it really helped not being alone." Secretly he suspected it wasn't just about him not being alone, it was about the company. For some reason he felt very safe with Hannibal, and he was quite sure this fragile spell would be broken as soon as Hannibal left. Shadows closing in again… he shivered and pulled on a t-shirt. Hannibal seemed to study him, then rose to his feet.

"I will return home now for a shower and a change of clothes. Will you be alright?" Will wanted to shrug it off but he felt something akin to panic at the thought of Hannibal leaving. When he didn't reply at once Hannibal paused while straightening his jacket. "Would you like to come with me?" Will did, but he blinked, unsure of what Hannibal meant. "If you fear to sleep alone, I have several spare rooms."

"Oh." His fingers fidgeted with the covers. _Yes. Yes, please._ He swallowed. "I couldn't… the dogs…" In the corner of his eyes, Hannibal became very still.

"Your friends are also welcome," Hannibal said finally, his voice sounding slightly strained. "There is a garden, and some of the rooms are suitable…" Will smiled a little, amused at Hannibal's obvious reluctance to allow a pack of messy dogs into his home. Then he felt a warmth spread through his chest from the fact that someone as refined as Hannibal would do that for him. Nobody had ever invited him in like that before.

"I'm much too… needing right now to decline that offer, Dr Lecter," he said with a fleeting look and an almost coy smile that sent a ripple of excitement through Hannibal. Almost as if Will knew how much his vulnerability called to him, flirted with him.

"I think we are quite firmly on first-name basis now," Hannibal pointed out, his voice slightly hoarser than usual. "Let us go."

Finally, with the dogs stuffed in the back seat, they drove to Hannibal's home. After a quick shower Hannibal made them breakfast and in the middle of it Will's cell phone rang. It was Jack, checking in on him and since Will was feeling better in Hannibal's company, he agreed to come and look at a crime scene. Hannibal assured Will that he had no patients that afternoon and was able to accompany him.

"How are your wounds?" Hannibal asked him in the car. "Are you sore?" Will shook his head.

"No, it's actually healing well." Hannibal observed his bobbing Adam's apple as he swallowed. "You did a great job patching me up."

"Your flesh heals quickly." He paused, turning his attention to the house they were pulling up to. It was swarming with police officers. "Ah, this must be it." They made their way through the swarm together, Will walking first and Hannibal keeping pace just behind him. Watching people watching Will. He had concluded that the act of violence against his Will was done by somebody who knew him, at least by reputation. He sifted through the lingering gazes like pages of a book, quietly searching.

They walked into the house and the smell of blood, both old and new, was heavy in the air. In the narrow hallway they met two officers on their way out. When they got close, Hannibal watched as Will tensed. He took a quick step back, a hasty retreat that backed him up right into Hannibal's chest. He caught Will easily around the arms, noting the trembling and deep inhalations.

At time like this time slowed for Hannibal, and he savored the moment of clarity when he watched the officers over Will's shoulder, each staring at Will with a peculiar expression. In one gaze he could clearly read sadistic excitement, and the other…guilt? _Interesting._

The officers squeezed past them in the narrow space, one hurrying past and the other lingering, obviously enjoying Will's distress. The man smiled at them, reserving a particularly cruel smirk for when he focused on Will. Hannibal gave him a smile of his own over Will's shoulder, which wasn't as much a smile as showing his teeth. When the man had left Hannibal rubbed his thumbs in slow, calming circles before letting go of Will's arms.

"Well… the architect could have done a better job with this hallway, I believe," Hannibal said lightly and Will grasped at the distraction like a lifeline.

"Yeah… it's really narrow, isn't it?" He laughed, then apparently noticed how nervous he sounded and stopped. "Right, let's go see what Jack has for us."

"You go ahead, I will be right with you." As intriguing as these crime scenes tended to be, Hannibal had other priorities right now. He silently stalked the garden of the house, offering up his need for fresh air as an explanation to a curious officer. After a few minutes he had what he wanted: names.

He walked into the house again, just in time to catch a glimpse of a mutilated corpse before Will walked up to him. Hannibal curbed an inappropriate smile at this; Will was unconsciously seeking out his presence.

"He's building something," Will said hoarsely, his blue eyes haunted.

* * *

In the evening Hannibal cooked for them, enjoying himself immensely in the kitchen as he tried out a new combination of spices that would enrich the flavor of the meat. Through the window he could see Will in the garden with his dogs, apparently introducing them to their new surroundings and what places were off limits. He admired Will's discipline over his dogs, firm but affectionate.

The scene was almost domestic. Hannibal was sure he was well on his way to secure Will's affection as well.

During their meal Hannibal explained to Will the nature of the food and the origin of the recipe, leaving out one unimportant detail. Will listened and Hannibal was pleased to discover that Will had very sensitive taste buds. If he couldn't guess that particular spice or nuance of flavor it was because it had yet to be introduced to him. His family had been poor, after all, while Hannibal had the good fortune to have been schooled in the finer things rather early. He could tell that Will enjoyed the topic of conversation, for once not focusing on the grisly details of a murder case.

"Why are you doing this?" Will asked, the sudden change of mood and pace taking Hannibal by surprise. He said nothing in reply, only studied Will through expressionless eyes while trying to discern the question's origin. "Being so nice to me, I mean," Will added and Hannibal relaxed.

"Friends enjoying a meal together is hardly a strange occurrence," he replied lightly.

"You answered my call in the middle of the night and came over and essentially held my hand while I feel asleep," Will said, his eyes darting around the room as if fleeing his own words. "You invited me over to stay, and even my dogs, which I know is a big thing, and I'm very grateful…" He trailed off and Hannibal leaned back in his chair, watching Will intently. "I'm not good at relationships," Will blurted out. Hannibal remained silent. "I mean…" Will paled a little. "I just want to know why you are doing this for me," he finished and Hannibal remained silent for a few moments, finally deciding that the temperature was warm enough.

"Will… I meant what I said. What I have done is no more than a friend would do for another." Hannibal was encouraged by the brief look of disappointment in Will's eyes. "That being said, I believe both of us would find a more intimate relationship… satisfying." Will met his gaze and they read each other for a few trembling moments before Will looked away again, flushed.

"I think so too." Will spoke quietly, as if confessing a great secret. Hannibal savored the secret like a delicacy, hungry for the next bite. Will seemed tormented by something, which in all honesty was a siren call for Hannibal, but in this particular situation he would prefer him not to be.

"You have doubts," Hannibal stated, running the pad of his forefinger along the blade of his table knife resting beside the plate.

"I might not be able to… what if I can never…" Will swallowed and Hannibal had to hold back a smile.

"My dear Will," he said softly. "I ask you as your psychiatrist, a friend and perhaps a lover… do you trust me?" The silence went on for longer than Hannibal had preferred but he was still pleased when Will nodded. "Then we will put your fears to rest together. In time."

Behind the walls of fear and doubt there was a spark of hope that Hannibal savored, hunting the salty freshness like a tear drop with his tongue.

* * *

Said the spider to the fly! Hannibal, you sly devil, you... .

So, um, yeah! Let me know what you think - there might be smut around the corner. ^/^


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: **Sooo... I should probably go ahead and add a couple of warnings for this chapter. Or maybe not. Oh, what the hell, I'll give you a hint: It rhymes with 'Hannibal' and it involves eating the flesh of other people. (if you don't get it you're probably in the wrong fandom) :)

Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it! As always, your reviews make my heart soar - please let me know what you think!

* * *

The evening progressed and too soon Will found his eyelids drooping. He was sitting on the couch in Hannibal's living room, Winston leaning against his legs with his head in his lap. Will didn't need to tell him that the couch was off-limits; Winston seemed to figure as much, eying Hannibal now and then as if Will's lap was a grey area where he may or may not be allowed. Hannibal himself sat immersed in a book on the other end of the couch, one leg over the other. Will stroked Winston , feeling almost calm. _It's rare,_ he reflected as he glanced down at the warm weight in his lap, _but for once there's no danger present. _On the contrary, his body was slowly accepting the fact that it could relax and heal. Tense muscles softened and he closed his eyes and exhaled.

"Are you feeling better?" Hannibal's calm voice broke the silence but Will remained relaxed, glancing at Hannibal.

"Much better. Thank you," Will replied and Hannibal gave him one of his brief smiles.

"I'm glad to hear it." Hannibal stood and put the book back on its shelf. "It's almost midnight and I'm afraid I have to go to bed. Come and I will show you the guest room." Will nodded, anxiety slowly seeping back into his mind like smoke through cracks. Of course he couldn't expect Hannibal to spend another night sitting on the bed in his suit, watching over Will. He wrung his hands, trying to wrap his mind around sleeping alone. In a strange room. Hannibal would be in the same house, would that be enough to keep the attacker away?

Hannibal led him upstairs, leaving the dogs on the first floor. Will could feel their eyes on him, questioning. At the end of a hallway Hannibal opened a door leading to a very elegant guest room. Will tried not to stare, but like everything else in Hannibal's home it radiated good taste and luxury.

"Ah, here we are. There's an adjoining bathroom through there," Hannibal said, pointing to a door on the east corner of the room. "Goodnight, Will." Hannibal turned to leave and it took a couple of seconds for Will to react.

"Wait!" He swallowed; he hadn't meant to sound quite so desperate. Hannibal turned, his face expressing nothing but patience. "Where will you sleep?"

_Subtle, Will. Real subtle. _ Will felt a blush creeping up his neck with red fingers.

"My bedroom is at the other end of the hall. Do knock if you need me." With that Hannibal left Will to his own thoughts. Will put his bag down and slowly undressed, leaving his boxers on as he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. A few minutes later he turned off the lights and crept under the covers. The fine fabric felt like a caress and he curled up on his side, staring out the window. The moon stared back, a thin slice of light hanging like a chesire grin on the other side of the glass. He didn't like the smile at all.

Turning carefully, as to not aggravate his healing injuries, he turned his face to the wall instead. The mattress dipped slightly behind him and he hoped that it was just an echo of his own movements.

_There's nobody here but me._

The scent of cheap cologne and sweat made his stomach turn. He pressed his nose into the pillow, breathing in the scent of fresh linen instead. And yet the smell prevailed, like a disgusting aftertaste.

_It's impossible. They can't be here. The dogs would have noticed. _

He tried to lie as still as possible, felt the rising fear squeeze his lungs like a fist. The mattress rocked and he fought a wave of nausea.

_No. Please. No._

In his mind's eye cruel hands hovered just behind him, not even an inch from his skin, he could feel their body heat, any second now their fingers would dig into his muscles, any moment a heavy weight would pin him down… he closed his eyes, afraid to look. But the person was just above him now, lowering himself… he could smell the man's foul breath.

It was not a conscious decision to throw himself from the bed, but rather an instinctual drive to flee. As soon as he hit the floor, tangled in the covers, his eyes flew open and he crawled towards the door, frantically and undignified.

"Dr Lecter..!" he choked out, then remembered they were on first name basis. "Hannibal!" _Almost lovers…_ he nearly laughed at the thought. Why would Hannibal ever want somebody this broken, who might never be able to share his bed in any normal way? Finally able to get up on his feet, he stumbled to the door and tore it open. Without looking back he fled the room, certain that the attacker was already close behind him. _Where's my gun? _Reaching Hannibal's door, he pounded on it. The door opened almost instantly and Hannibal stared at him, his face inscrutable. He had a blue robe on, lending him his usual elegant look.

"Will?" he prompted. Will took a deep breath, wringing his hands frantically while trying to stop them from shaking.

"There's somebody here," he said, voice hoarse with fear. He glanced over his shoulder down the dark hallway, expecting the attacker to emerge.

Nothing. Hannibal followed his gaze, the sharp eyes examining the darkness before turning back to Will.

"I swear somebody was in my room," Will insisted weakly and Hannibal nodded and stepped aside, gently guiding Will inside his bedroom.

"I will check for any intruders," Hannibal told him. "You will sleep here regardless." Will nodded, intense relief making his limbs weak. "Get into bed and wait for me." The words sent a delicious tingle through Will and he wondered about that as he watched Hannibal walk down the dark hallway as calm as always. His bare feet made no sound on the soft carpet. The whole situation struck Will as odd and darkly humorous; an FBI agent sought help from his psychiatrist when attacked in the night.

_What if it's just my mind playing tricks on me? What if I'm going crazy? _He crept beneath the covers in Hannibal's bed, filled with shame. _How long before Hannibal grows tired of me?_

It took a while for Hannibal to return, but when he finally climbed into bed Will was very glad to see him.

"I am happy to report there are no intruders," Hannibal said, the corners of his mouth quirking up briefly, like shrugging of shoulders. "I have checked the whole house quite thoroughly." Will's face burned.

"I'm sorry… I woke you up, wasted your time… I'm sorry, I really am…" Hannibal made himself comfortable, then looked at Will.

"Never apologize for coming to me." His dark eyes glittered with humor. "Especially not for something that delivers you to my bed." Will huffed a laugh, looking away. It was odd how things could suddenly go from wild uncertainty and fear to completely safe. Reason and logic dictated that if both his attackers entered right now and it was him and Hannibal against them, they would likely win. Two burly field agents against a teacher and a psychiatrist.

_And yet…_ He watched Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. The man didn't exactly radiate danger, but rather a firm control that Will found difficult to ignore, especially during their talks.

Will turned away, arranging himself on his side. The distinct scent of Hannibal was everywhere, subtly wrapping itself around his senses like a blanket. Outside the window the moon was grinning and Will shivered, trying to remember that Hannibal was _right there_, that it was him weighing down the mattress behind Will, not some nightmare attacker.

"Will." Will pushed the dark thoughts away long enough to hum a question mark. "If you allow it I will demonstrate a way for you to sleep in peace."

"Please," Will murmured. No sooner had he nodded his consent than he felt movement behind him and a strong arm encircled his waist. Unable to quell it, a sound of distress slipped his lips when he found his behind firmly nestled into Hannibal's lap. The man's broader chest was a firm pressure against Will's injured back.

"Hush," Hannibal whispered in his ear, and the hot breath made Will tremble. "I've got you." He said nothing more and Will spent several minutes staring into the shadows trying to force his body to calm down – or at least decide if he was frightened or aroused. Part of him closed down completely at the merest hint of a body pressed against his own, and yet there were parts within him lighting up… like lit windows in an otherwise dark building. The warm pressure against his aching back was actually soothing, the arm around his waist an anchor. He could feel Hannibal's intake of breath above his neck and hair and he knew the man was smelling him again. Then he seemed satisfied and nestled his face into Will's hair, briefly, as if by mistake, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin behind Will's ear. Will inhaled sharply, but said nothing.

Neither of them did. And after awhile, they fell asleep.

* * *

Hannibal descended the stairs to the basement, and yet another flight of stairs to the room beneath the basement. It had served a purpose long ago, and now it served Hannibal. The door from the basement to the lower room as expertly hidden and quite heavy, letting no sounds through. The hidden room had under Hannibal's care gotten a large freezer, a cupboard filled with tools, a big table and a sink, among other things. Hannibal approached the table, upon which a bound and gagged man stared at him.

"Ah, agent Johnson." Hannibal removed his blue robe, replacing it with a white, plastic apron. "I am pleased you decided to join me." He rolled up the sleeves of the night shirt. Agent Johnson stared at him with a mixture of hate and terror. Hannibal leaned over him, tilting his head. "You have trespassed on my property twice now, agent Johnson." His voice was soft, so very soft. "What's to be done about that?" The agent made muffled noises and Hannibal removed the gag.

"You're talking about the freak, aren't you?" Agent Johnson spoke swiftly, nearly stumbling over the words. "You don't have to do this! Look, I don't mind sharing..." The agent's voice had taken on an almost intimate tone, as if they were confidants. "Untie me and I'll forget this ever happened. I'll even hold him while you have a go…" Hannibal's fingers closed on his throat, cutting off his air supply.

"How very generous of you, agent Johnson," Hannibal said softly. Beneath his fingers, the man gasped for air. He abruptly let go and chose a broad bladed knife from the cupboard.

"What are you d-doing?" Whether it was something in Hannibal's eyes or he cupboard full of tools, it had clearly dawned on agent Johnson that his situation was worse than he had ever imagined.

"I am trying to decide whether to cut your vocal cords before I begin." Hannibal paused. "But no. I will not." He approached the table again and agent Johnson started to hyperventilate. "I am not usually one for cruelty, you understand," Hannibal added, and while his voice was soft his eyes were cold. "But you offended me." The knife rested on Johnson's naked thigh. "Severely."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," agent Johnson babbled, like a mantra, chanted it like a Hail Mary. Hannibal smiled.

"No, you are not. Not yet." He dragged the blade lightly against the skin, marking out a specific area with a bloody line. "Now, you will have to forgive me, I do have to focus." He pursed his lips, examining his handywork.

Agent Johnson was crying.

"I am supposed to make somebody breakfast."

* * *

**Author's note #2:**  
Sloooowly moving towards smut. I promise. Will is thinking 'never ever' while Hannibal is more like 'ten minutes from now he'll totally crave it' - let's see who wins. Remember, gentle mindfucks count as foreplay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

My apologies for the delay! I've been visiting my home, and there's been a whole lot of irl stuff getting in the way of writing. Your lovely feedback and comments has kept my muse fed though, so keep on telling me what you think - I take it all into consideration, and even if it's only a few words, it's dearly appreciated. Thank you all for your patience and awesomeness! 3 3 3

And I request the highest of fives from my fellow fannibals on account of the latest episodes - the were so many shippy moments I had to put my brain on ice afterwards! :)

* * *

Fear constricted his chest, clouding his vision as he struggled against the arm around his neck, threw his weight around like a panicked animal when he realized their intention; the knowledge slid into his mind like an icicle, nailing his mind in place like a needle through an insect.

_Anything but this. _

He didn't like to be touched, he never had. Now his carefully built fort might as well have been by sofa cushions for all the good it did him. The pain of being invaded was nothing compared to the humiliation of being made _less._ Dehumanized and weak, inwardly crumbling all the way home afterwards.

When Will woke up, tangled in the damp sheets, it was with the sickening realization that he was still crumbling. Since that night it was as if his already fragile mind was shattering in slow-motion.

The silence of the bedroom was deafening as he noticed his erection, heavy and needing, against his thigh. He swallowed down a wave of nausea, turned and buried his nose in the pillow on the other side of the bed, breathing in Hannibal's scent of warm skin, something almost spicy and traces of his expensive cologne.

_Calm. Clarity._

No arm was draped across his waist, no warmth against his back; at some point Hannibal had left the bed. Will wondered if Hannibal was an early riser. One look at the watch confirmed it; it was only six thirty in the morning. He moved tentatively, stretching to test the state of his body. Beneath every white cotton pad a wound ached dully, but there was no insistent throbbing. Flipping the cover to the side he glanced down on his hip, noting that the finger-shaped bruises had turned yellow. Pretty soon there would be no visible trauma, the wounds in his mind being the only ones left. He was grateful for that at least. For some reason it felt _wrong_, even more so in the presence of Hannibal, to wear their marks.

_Ah yes. Hannibal. _

It was a mystery to Will why Hannibal had taken him in the way he had, offering calm and steady support to Will's shaky world. What could he possibly get out of it?

Will sat up in bed, letting the covers slide down in his lap. A tempting smell entered the room and his stomach growled a response. _Bacon and eggs?_ He showered quickly and got dressed, running fingers through his unruly hair in an attempt to tame it. A glance in the mirror confirmed his doubts; he might as well have attempted to tame the leaves of a tree. He made his way downstairs, following the tell-tale kitchen sounds.

* * *

Hannibal smiled when he heard Will coming down the stairs, just in time as he put the finishing touch on Will's plate of bacon and eggs. When Will stopped in the doorway like a dog waiting permission to be let in, Hannibal allowed the smile to linger when he looked up.

"Good morning, Will." He put the plate down on the counter between them, pushing it towards him. "Come and eat." Will's answering grin was a tantalizing mix of shy and awkward – Hannibal made a conscious effort to reign in his enthusiasm and quell the odd warmth of tenderness. _Control above all._ He allowed himself to enjoy the deep sense of satisfaction when Will tentatively nibbled on a strip of bacon.

_Feeding my enemies to my family._ A beautiful tradition in many cultures. He sat down opposite Will, eating off his own plate.

Outside the dogs played in the garden. Their loyal gazes had greeted Hannibal first thing in the morning, and the lingering smell of dog had grated over his fine senses long after he had released them into the garden. He had toyed with the idea of getting rid of them, but had decided against it. One more or less in the pack wouldn't make any difference, and more than one tragic accident would make Will suspicious. A necessary evil, for now.

He waited patiently until Will had eaten the bacon strips and started on the eggs.

"How are you feeling?" Predictably, the egg-filled fork stilled mid-air and sank back down. He watched as Will took a few deep gulps of water as he was stalling.

"I'm fine," Will said at last. Again he flashed the nervous smile, his gaze boldly landing on Hannibal's ear before skidding to the side. "I mean, I'm much better."

"Mh." Hannibal swallowed a mouthful of coffee, deciding to push forward. "No more dreams, then?" He chased Will's gaze with his own for a few seconds, but soon stopped, feeling like a cat chasing a laser pointer.

"No." Will swallowed soundly, staring down at his fork and the mutilated egg.

"Will." The stern tone of voice had worked before; Hannibal had no reason to believe it wouldn't work again. And it did; once again Will seemed to shrink and dropped his head in submission.

"Sometimes I have bad dreams," he admitted quietly, and in response to Hannibal's pointed silence, added: "I had a nightmare last night."

"Tell me about it." The easy demand was from a psychiatrist, but he deliberately let the underlying sympathy seep through, knowing that Will would be drawn to it.

"I-I keep dreaming about… that night." Will sounded as if he had to push the words out of his mouth by force. Then he clamped down, grinding his teeth together.

"Your subconscious is trying to deal with the abuse by putting you back in the situation again and again." Hannibal studied him through half-lidded eyes, navigating through through the minefield of trauma with practiced ease. "Your mind is making desperate attempts to cope." He tilted his head to the side, noting that Will had visibly paled. "Have you noticed anything of the sort, Will? Has your subconscious suggested an emergency exit for you?"

Will rubbed his hand over his face and got to his feet, jerking in alarm when the chair made an awful noise against the floor.

"No. Nothing. I-" He sucked in his bottom lip and chewed on it, his blue eyes haunted. "I woke up, uh, in… well, in a… _state,_" he whispered at last, choking out the last word.

Hannibal curbed a smile and stood up, ignoring the way Will took a step back, and calmly collected their plates.

"It is not an unusual reaction," he said calmly, unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "Sifting out pleasure from the grit of pain is a common coping mechanism." He turned to the sink and washed the plates, listening to Will's trembling intake of breath and when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"It is?" he mumbled, walking to stand beside Hannibal, grabbing a kitchen towel on the way. "I just feel like a freak."

"You are not a freak," Hannibal told him firmly, giving him a wet plate to dry. "You have an extraordinary mind that has been through severe trauma only days ago."

Will nodded, putting the dry plate down and accepting the other.

"I suppose… I just – I feel like I don't know what I want anymore. Like I don't know my own body."

"The assault damaged your boundaries, and it will take time to build them up again. It is natural to feel lost." Hannibal handed him a glass, and paused to look at him. "For a lack of a better term, your country has been invaded and your defences are destroyed. Now you live in constant fear of new invaders who senses your weakness."

Will shivered, his movements becoming slow as he dried the glass.

"…yes," he said quietly, sounding so small that Hannibal had to fight the urge to pull him close. But he would do nothing more until Will invited him to. "What can I do?"

"Forget about what you want," Hannibal said after a moment. "You do not know what you want. What do you think you need?"

Will gave him a wry grin, putting the dried plate down.

"I need somebody to patrol the borders, I guess." He exhaled a shaky breath, his darting gazes feeling like the brush of a moth's wing on Hannibal's skin. Hannibal turned slowly, half-lidded eyes watching the younger man with languid ease. The moment dragged on until Hannibal detected a note of uncertainty in the blue orbs.

"Am I to be entrusted with this duty, then?" Hannibal kept the tone light and conversational, mindful of Will's already frayed nerves.

"Can you think of anyone better suited?" Will asked, the awkward warmth like a cup of hot chocolate to Hannibal's senses. He wetted his lips before turning to Will, savoring the near perfect trust he could read in his face.

"I really can't." Hannibal leaned in and inhaled discreetly, noting that the Will's neck turned a delicious shade of red even though he didn't say anything. He looked forward to the day Will would turn to him to explore his wants and needs.

_I'll help you rebuild those walls, dear Will… with me on the inside._


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Hi sweetlings! Thank you for your patience - and this chapter actually contains some touching! Yaaaaay here's hoping the next chapter will be smut. Anyway, please enjoy and do drop me a line if you feel like it. Remember, feedback of muse juice! Thank youuu!

* * *

Somewhere in the house Will's cell phone chimed and he left the room, leaving Hannibal to ponder the situation. Apparently Will's subconscious tried to cope with the trauma by introducing pleasure into the equation. Poor Will would not only be confused but tormented, at the mercy of his mind. His imagination would no doubt conjure up that nightmarish situation, supplying him with an excruciating amount of detail every time he closed his eyes. No wonder his mind tried to bend his pain to pleasure.

Hannibal leaned against the counter, drying his hands with a kitchen towel.

_How fortunate for me._

Will stepped into the kitchen again and his eyes darted around the room, avoiding Hannibal's steady gaze. Hannibal watched him through half-lidded eyes, allowing himself to briefly imagine Will helpless in his grasp, desperately writhing in release as he was forced to look Hannibal in the eye.

"That was Jack. He, uh, he asked if I could come and take a look…" Will dragged a hand across his face. "There's been another murder." Hannibal folded the towel carefully, pursing his lips in thought.

"And do you feel well enough to assist him?" he finally asked. Will shrugged and gave him that quirky half-grin.

"I don't feel bad enough not to." Hannibal's lips twitched in a brief smile and he nodded.

"Very well. You have my number if the need arises." He was pleased to see disappointment in Will's face. He didn't voice the obvious question, though; Hannibal looked forward to the point that he would. Will turned and headed for the door, then hesitated and turned.

"So, um, what will you do?" The tentative question seemed to be dragged from him by a hook.

"I believe I will do some cleaning up," Hannibal replied lightly and smiled at Will's incredulous look. The kitchen was spotless. _But the basement is a mess._ Will shifted, seeming unwilling to leave. "Alright, then. I'll see you later?" The question mark was appearing like a landmark for Hannibal's conquest, a sign of dependence.

"Of course."

* * *

Six hours later Will was driving home. _Home? That was quick. _Hannibal's home, he reminded himself. Not his. He clung to that thought for awhile, imagining the safety of that house. Hannibal's steady calm. It blocked out the horrible arrangement of limbs and eyes staring at him every time he closed his eyes.

_Just three more miles…_

The scenery flashed past outside the car, wintry fields and naked trees reaching for a vast grey sky.

His head hurt, an insistent throbbing spearing out from behind his right eyebrow until both his temples pulsed in low-key agony. In his minds eye he turned, coming face to face with his own monstrous creation. He looked into a woman's face, her dead eyes staring at nothing as her dislocated jaw made her open mouth unnaturally big in a parody of hunger. Her tongue was half ripped, hanging down her chin like a red tie. Long, black hair was tangled and sticky with blood. The creature had three pairs of arms, carefully arranged in a goddess like pose. The flesh between her splayed fingers was gone, so they seemed like elongated claws. He forcefully pushed the image from his mind, knowing that it would haunt him again as soon as the sun set. Among other things… he shivered, the hands on the steering wheel a tad unsteady as he remembered seeing one of the agents on the crime scene. The one that had held him down. Will had avoided being in the same room as him, and for awhile he seemed to be of the same mind. Then he noticed that Will purposefully avoided him, and Will's insides had churned at the predatory glint in his eyes. After that it had been a game of cat and mouse. Not that anything could possibly happen, not in front of the other agents… but would he try something later? Fear and anxiety was like a lead weight in his chest and stomach. It had been a small mercy that the other agent hadn't been there. What if they had managed to corner him somewhere…

His imagination kicked into high gear and supplied him with one such scenario after another and by the time he got out of the car it took a conscious effort not to hyperventilate.

He knocked on the door, wrestling with the mental images as he waited for Hannibal to answer the door. The door opened and Hannibal greeted him with his usual flourish and smile.

"Will. Come in." Will managed a shaky grin and followed Hannibal inside. He didn't want to share his thoughts about the agent. Instead he answered with unusual detail when Hannibal inquired about his day, describing the murder scene carefully while Hannibal continued preparing their dinner. The sleeves of his expensive shirt were rolled up to his elbows and Will's mouth went dry at the sight of the strong arms. He doubted that Hannibal worked out, but he seemed to be effortlessly well built. Will found himself wondering what Hannibal looked like without the shirt altogether…

"Will?" Will looked up to meet Hannibal's expectant gaze and realized that the other man had asked him something.

"I'm sorry?" He felt a faint blush creep up his neck when Hannibal gave him a knowing look.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" Hannibal asked him patiently.

"Oh. Um… yes, please." Will swallowed, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth until Hannibal offered him a glass. He accepted it with a grateful flash of teeth. "Thanks." He sipped it and hoped that the alcohol would slow the frantic pulse of his heart.

"Are you frightened, Will?" The question caught him off guard as it was so casually thrown at him. He glanced at the man deftly slicing the meat into smaller bits.

"You think I'm scared of you, Dr Lecter?" He felt rebellious. Fear made him prickly and it lent an unwanted tremble to his words. He licked his lips, eyes darting to the door when the hands stilled and Hannibal straightened and looked at him, head tilted slightly to the side, really looking. Will wondered what he saw.

"Yes," the good doctor said simply, and continued to cut the flesh on the wooden board. Will huffed a laugh, but the familiar fear sizzled in his veins.

"You're wrong. I'm not afraid of you," he replied, angry with himself for not managing to keep his voice steady. Anger felt marginally better, like scratching a mosquito bite, so he clung to the feeling. "Seems like your fancy degrees failed you…" He pressed his lips together, regretting dripping acid over their relationship but still too angry and defensive to properly care.

The knife stilled again and, at length, Hannibal looked up and Will was treated to a look so cold it felt like heat. But only for a moment, then it was gone as if it had never existed. Will broke eye-contact, dropping his gaze to the table. Hannibal moved suddenly, quick determined strides that had Will stumbling awkwardly to his feet to get out of his way, thinking that the man meant to fetch something from the other end of the kitchen. A moment later he was backed up against the counter, the edge digging into his lower back. Hannibal was crowding him, looming above him like a snake over a mouse. Fear rose like bile in Will's throat and he tried to push it down, swallowing again and again.

"W-what are you doing..? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be in your way…" Stuttering now, briefly searching for confirmation in the familiar lines in Hannibal's face. He found no comfort at all, Hannibal's hooded eyes being near expressionless. The older man closed in even more, until they were touching, until their hips touched and oh god, Will could feel the outline of his, of his- Sweat pearled on Will's forehead and upper lip as his heart was hammering wildly against his ribcage. "Stop!" It was meant to be forceful, but instead it was a breathless whisper. He leaned this way and that, trying to find a way to get out of the trap but found himself caged in by Hannibal's arm and legs.

All of the sudden strong fingers, slick with blood, grasped his chin in a firm grip and held his face still.

"I'm sorry," Will whispered, humiliating tears burning behind his eyelids. _Please, don't hurt me. Please…_

"You were being very rude," Hannibal agreed. "I forgive you, Will." Hannibal's gaze softened somewhat and Will almost sobbed in relief. "But you _are _frightened." He leaned in, his maroon eyes taking up Will's whole world. "Why are you frightened in my house, Will?" Will trembled and Hannibal rolled his hips against the others, grinding their erections together and causing Will to whimper. The wet fingers holding his chin smelled faintly of metal and stroked him soothingly. "You are afraid that you might like this, are you not? Perhaps even more afraid that you might not know if you do."

"You know that I find you attractive," Will whispered, fear tearing at him with venomous claws while his erection was rubbing against Hannibal's thigh, heavy with blood.

"Indeed." Hannibal leaned in close, until their breaths mingled. "As you can no doubt feel, the attraction is mutual." He reached up and placed a hand on the back of Will's neck, rasping the soft skin with his nails. Will drew a trembling breath and let Hannibal press his face against Hannibal's shoulder. He sobbed, hips jerking. "Being forced is what you fear the most." Hannibal's tone was almost gentle and he moved his face, brushing his lips over Will's hair. "But you crave to be stripped of control. My dear Will… you need the pleasure forced on you."

Will shook his head against Hannibal's collar, his hips moving to seek out the delicious friction. Without warning, Hannibal took a step back and carefully steadied Will before returning to the other side of the counter, and the cooking.

"Never be afraid in my home," Hannibal said, his voice calm and even as if they had just commented on the weather and Will was not half undone with tears in his eyes.

"A-are you saying that I _want_ that-that to happen to me again?" Hannibal looked up from the meat.

"Not at all. You want something else entirely. I suspect you need to give up control willingly, to have somebody else force you with your consent, and effectively retell the story to your body using your own words."

Will hugged himself, still shaking.

"What does that mean? What would you do to me if I agreed to… that?" Hannibal smiled while seasoning the meat on the stove.

"I would take care of you," he replied simply and Will fought the urge to crawl into his arms.

"Alright then. Um. I consent." Will could feel the nightmares closing in on him, he could sense the agent from before lurking in the back of his mind. But he found that by placing himself in Hannibal's hands, he did feel safer. He swallowed hard, watching Hannibal cook.

_What will he ask of me?_


End file.
